Run Away with Me
by DramioneLurver
Summary: Everything in Sam’s life seems to be headed in the wrong direction, so she takes the one option she has to make it all go away: she runs. When the people who care about her find out, will they come after her? slow-burn Seddie.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This plot bunny has been hopping around my head for a while now, so I just had to give in and write it down, even though I have two papers to write and am in the middle of various WIPs for other fandoms already. (Oops…)

Anyway, this is just the beginning, so it'll be setting us up for the main plot, which I – for one – am actually really looking forward to, but will be familiar for a while. It will be my first multichapter fic of this fandom, so feedback is much appreciated!

Disclaimer: What isn't mine: Harry Potter, Buffy, Smallville, iCarly… and the list goes on and on… it's quite depressing though, so I'm going to stop there.

Chapter 1

Only yesterday had Ms Briggs and Mr. Howard found themselves degraded back to mere teachers, which (surprisingly enough) had relieved the entire student body at Ridgeway. However, both of the nasty instructors seemed to recover from their loss of co-principal status by torturing their students even more than usual. Just earlier that day, Ms Briggs had given a group of twenty students detention for 'loitering in the halls' during passing period. And then, during lunch she had assigned a certain Sam Puckett double detention for throwing her lunch in Gibby's face. Not two seconds later, Mr. Howard had walked by and dished out the same punishment to Gibby for not wearing a shirt. When Gibby protested that his shirt was completely covered in Sam's mashed potatoes and gravy, the bitter old man had _tripled _his time.

The scene played out something like this:

* * *

"I can't believe we allgot detention!" Freddie whined as he sat next to his two friends. Across from him, Sam started stuffing her mouth with the pseudo-steak they were serving today.

"I know," Carly replied, opening her plastic baggie to remove her straw, napkin, and spork. "Ms Briggs is really in a bad mood today."

"And when is the lady _not _in a bad mood?" Sam commented sarcastically, gravy-tinted spit spewing out of her mouth to land on the table.

"True," Carly admitted before turning to her meal. As she did, the spork in her hand caught her attention.

"I'm sure she has some good days," Freddie insisted. "Even Ms Briggs has to be happy during vaca—"

"Sporks are so weird," Carly observed, cutting the boy off. Without bothering to protest, he just turned his gaze to said object.

"They are," Sam agreed, holding out her own plastic utensil. "It's like a spoon that wanted to be a fork."

"Or a fork that wanted to be a spoon," Freddie pointed out.

"No," Sam retorted. "It's definitely a spoon wanting to be a fork."

"Or maybe a fork and a spoon got together and had little mutant spork babies," Carly remarked. All three of them tilted their heads to the right, staring at the sporks.

"What's so interesting?" Gibby asked, probably wondering why the three teenagers were sitting perfectly still and looking at their sporks as if they were about to start singing and dancing.

"Sporks," Carly answered simply, not breaking her gaze. Freddie and Sam were also still studying the sporks the girls held suspended in midair, even as Sam reached down with her left hand to pick up a slice of wanna-be meat from her lunch dish and lift it to her mouth. But as she tore a gigantic chunk out of it, Freddie slid his eyes over to the blonde, staring incredulously at the way she was particularly vicious towards her meat.

"What'd the meat do to you?" he questioned, pulling both girls out of their spork trances.

"I just need to take it all out on something. Meat is good," Sam explained. In response, Carly shrugged and Freddie rolled his eyes.

"Well, hopefully detention won't be too terrible," the techie stated, rising a grunt out of the blonde meat-eater.

"Of course it will be terrible. It'll be worse!" Sam declared, ripping off more of her meat. "Brigg's still all upset over the party in the halls thing while super-what-not whoever was here."

"And for being locked up in that closet," Carly added.

"Neuh, we all know Briggs and Howard ended up having a huge make-out session," Sam replied, sending all three of her tablemates into bad mental places – a fact which was exemplified by the expressions of horror and pure disgust pasted on their faces.

"Sam!" Freddie groaned. "Now I need to wash my brain with soap…"

"Need help with that, Freddork?" she offered, earning an as-if glare from the boy.

"Seriously, Sam," Carly reprimanded. "Stop forcing yucky mental pictures into our heads!"

"Not my fault you all live in the gutter," she shot back. "Ugh, why'd you remind me of that anyway, Fredalina? Now I'm all worked up again!"

"I didn't _do _anything, Sam!" Freddie protested. "Control your own emotions."

"I can't just stop getting all mad when I'm so mad!" Sam exclaimed, stuffing the rest of her fake steak into her mouth in an effort to calm herself.

"Great, Sam," Carly whined. "You're all upset and you finished off your meat. You know you need to make it last!"

"It's not my fault," Sam objected as she started to shake in fury. "Fredanna's the one that brought the stupid subject back up!"

Halfway through the boy's sputtering, a loud _splat _interrupted the noise of the cafeteria, bringing every pair of eyes to the mess of brown-streaked mashed potatoes all over a certain Gibby Gibson.

"Sam!" Carly chided. "You just hit Gibby in the face!"

"And I feel a whole lot better now," she replied happily, slurping her chocolate milk through Carly's straw.

"It's okay," Gibby mumbled through white goop, using his hand to scrape away what he could.

"Samantha Puckett!"

The yell echoed through the room, bouncing all eyes between the moody teacher and annoyed blonde whose good mood had miraculously evaporated.

"Food fights are strictly against the rules!" Ms Briggs hollered. "That's detention for all this week."

"You already gave me detention," Sam reminded her sourly, scowling at the woman.

"Then that's double detention!" the crabby lady exclaimed before swooping around on her feet and dramatically exiting the cafeteria.

"You still got…" Carly offered to Gibby, pointing to the clunks of potato still stuck to his face. Wordlessly, the boy habitually lifted off his shirt and began to wipe his face off properly.

"Shirtless boy!"

Sighing and raising his eyes to the ceiling as if to pray to whatever ceiling gods there were out there that they would take him up above to live on the roof, Gibby waited for Mr. Howard to continue his scolding, as he no doubt was about to.

"How many times to I have to tell you to keep yourself covered!" the grouchy man yelled, not wanting any answer. But Gibby gave him one anyway.

"But this time I was really—"

"Oh, stop coming up with excuses!" the old man demanded. "That'll be detention, with me, for all this week."

"But Ms Briggs already gave me detention this week!" Gibby protested.

"Then I guess I'll see you next week," Mr. Howard replied without a pause. "And put back on your shirt!"

"But it's covered in gravy and potatoes!"

"Don't talk back to a teacher!" the man yelled venomously.

"I just—!"

"Next week _and _the week after!" the grump proclaimed before storming off.

* * *

Such a horrible, terrible, no good, very bad series of events is exactly what had Sam in such a mood that even an entire pound of ham couldn't cure. Freddie and Carly knew this for a fact since the girl was currently finishing off the pound which they had purchased on the way home from school. After that torturous time with Briggs, they knew she would need it.

"I can't believe I have to deal with that witch for another two weeks," Sam groaned as she chewed the last bit of ham.

"At least you don't have three," Freddie pointed out.

"Poor Gibby," Carly said for the umpteenth time that afternoon.

"I really don't think I can take this," Sam complained. "She drives me insane!"

"How hard is it to drive somebody insane when they're already there?" Freddie asked Carly, clearly amused.

"Shut up, Fredella," Sam commanded. "Before I do it for you."

"Hey, take your anger out on Briggs, not me," Freddie told her, backing away just in case.

"Whatever, Fredderly, that's…" Sam froze, a mischievous grin inching across her face. "That's brilliant."

"Oh, Sam, nothing illegal," Carly pleaded.

"Spoil my fun," Sam pouted.

"And that's supposed to stop Sam?" Freddie asked with a raised eyebrow.

"True…" Sam and Carly remarked together.

"What's so factual that it's echoing-true's worthy?" Spencer questioned as he walked into the apartment, paper bags cradled in his arms.

"The fact that something being illegal wouldn't stop Sam from doing it," Carly informed him.

"Ah," he uttered, placing his bags on the kitchen counter as he thought. "Yeah, definitely echoing-true's worthy."

"Besides, after the horror Briggs and Howard put us through while they were 'co-principals," Sam shot nastily, writing finger quotes in the air as she spoke, "they deserve to be hit with something good."

"I don't wanna know," Carly announced. Then she turned sharply towards Sam and grinned. "Okay, tell me!"

"Well, I haven't thought of the perfect thing yet," Sam replied, frowning slightly. "It'll take me some time to come up with a fitting revenge."

"Wow, I'm surprised you don't have a list of possible pranks lying around," Freddie commented dryly.

"Nah, too time consuming," Sam responded with a lazy wave of her hand.

"Why did you buy so many golf balls?" Carly wondered out loud, even though everyone in the room could guess what Spencer would say. Pausing from unloading the boxes of golf balls stacked within his paper bags, Spencer leaned up against the counter to explain.

"Remember that time I was making those test holes for the mini golf course and all those kids came over and brought all those clubs?"

"Wasn't that a long time ago? Like over a year?" Carly asked as the memories came back. It wasn't a fun memory to recall, since she was still a bit disappointed that her friends had rigged her interview so she never even had the chance to accept or deny an invitation to attend Briarwood. But she was over it. Totally completely over with a capital O.

Mostly.

"I have no idea," Spencer admitted. "I know the clubs have been staring at me for forever though. Sometimes they're scary. Like at night, when I forget they're in my closet and I go in there and they always jump out at me, like hideous, lengthy monsters."

By this time, Sam and Freddie were exchanging glances – as per usual when the elder Shay told such stories.

"Well, I still have all the clubs because the owner of King Putt said they weren't colorful enough to match his course, so they've been stocked up in my room. Then, last night, I got this inspiration!" Spencer formed an invisible shape in the air as he described his newest idea. "I'm going to make this sculpture out of golf clubs and golf balls of a man playing baseball!"

None of the teens bothered to ask why a man being constructed of golf bits would play baseball.

"Cool!" Carly exclaimed, catching the excitement from her brother. With those two, excitement seemed to spread as fast as laughs or sneezes. "But why did you need more golf balls? You had a pretty big collection of those, too."

"Oh, I gave those to Mr. Puttani," he explained. When all three of the teenagers in the apartment shot him quizzical glances, he expanded. "He's the owner of King Putt."

"Is he related to Socko?" Freddie inquired.

"I don't think so," Spencer replied slowly, not quite understanding where that came from. "Why? I mean, I could ask—"

"No reason," Sam assured him.

"Okay," he said, dismissing the last ten seconds of the conversation as he finished emptying his bag of golf balls.

"Maybe I should pelt Briggs with golf balls…" Sam thought aloud, a grin curving its way onto her face.

"And get suspended for sending her into the hospital," Freddie finished for her, earning a glare from the blonde.

"Freddie has a point," Carly added. "And as much as I dislike Briggs, you shouldn't actually kill her."

"Dislike? You only _dislike _the skunksack?" Sam demanded in shock. "I hate her!"

"Hate is a strong word," Carly explained.

"Which is why I use it often," Sam responded coolly, flipping through the channels so fast that Freddie couldn't figure out what any of the shows were that she was passing.

"Sam," he whined. "Can't you just pick a station and stick with it?"

"There's nothing good on," she protested before turning off the television and throwing the remote onto the coffee table. "Besides, my brain's stuck on pranking Briggs."

"Hey, speaking of pranking…" Freddie began, a grin appearing on his face. "You know what we haven't done in a while?"

"Our homework? 'Cause I'll pass," Sam proclaimed.

"No," he said simply, eyes sparkling as he let a moment of silence build up the suspense for the curious girls. "Messed with Lewbert."

With those words, the three teens grinned at each other, Sam's expression matching Freddie's almost too well. In Spencer's opinion, that is.

"I know there's a reason we keep you around," Sam told Freddie.

"Because I'm brilliant," he replied in a giddy tone.

"What should we do?" Carly asked, excited for the event which was most definitely going into the next iCarly show.

"Hmmm," Sam murmured while thinking. When she brought out that half-smile of hers, Carly and Freddie only had to wait a moment for the idea to come out.

"Hey, Spence," she called. "Could we borrow some of those golf balls?"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I have a long list for Christmas this year of various fandoms and fictional characters. I have a feeling that I'll only be receiving books and socks. But hey, I like my books and socks.

A/N: Okay, so I'm twisting the timeline a bit to make iFind Lewbert's Lost Love follow shortly after the events of iHave My Principals. So this takes place around the end of October. The first chapter obviously took place after iHave My Principals and before iFind Lewbert's Lost Love. This one (as well as the entire rest of the story) takes place after iFind Lewbert's Lost Love and disregards the canon following it. Many issues addressed in the iMove Out and iQuit iCarly will be dealt with throughout the story, but in a different manner and through different circumstances, since everything is bent to follow the change that this chapter creates to the characters' lives.

Without further ado, here is the second chapter! Feedback is always appreciated!

* * *

A few days later, the aftermath of Freddie's bringing up of Messing With Lewbert ended up with one Lewbert in jail, one empty lobby, one Q&A followed by a scolding from Mrs. Benson, and one only somewhat satisfied Sam. During detention on Friday, the three extremely bored friends decided they needed to do something to celebrate the hopefully permanent absence of their old doorman. Later that night, he was still the subject of conversation.

"I can't believe Lewbert is actually gone," Freddie repeated in shock.

"I know," Carly responded, staring off into space. Or perhaps at the misshapen figure of a golfer behind her couch.

"Halle-frickin'-lujah.," Sam exclaimed. "We should throw a party."

"We just did that," Carly reminded her, waving her hands at the confetti littered on the kitchen floor, the balloons still tied to every available piece of furniture, and leftover funfetti cake with a raspberry cream filling and cream cheese frosting that the blonde was currently munching on, despite the fact that she had already eaten half of it during the actual celebration.

"Do you think they'll hire a new guy?" Freddie asked, giving the strange cake he would never dare try (if it was Sam's favorite, it had to be weird) a suspicious glance.

"Nah," Sam retorted sarcastically. "They're gonna block off the lobby and make everyone climb to their apartments via the fire escape."

"I hope they don't ask Spencer to do it again," Carly wished aloud. "Last time he got all… uptight and non-Spencer-y."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, recalling the unpleasant memories. "Next time he might grow a wart, too."

All three teenagers then shivered in horror simultaneously at the mental images in their brains.

"Maybe they'll get someone nice and boring for a change," Freddie suggested, dreaming of the pleasant idea.

"Fishing for a job?" Sam asked dryly, shooting him a glance. He rolled his eyes and sent her a light glare.

"And stack up even more reasons you can mock me?" he replied with a scoff. "I don't think so."

"We all know how you don't think, Freddo. Let's talk about something else. Like Batty Briggs and a plan to piss her off real good," Sam declared, eye narrowing with the wonderful thought of revenge.

"Didn't the blowing up of Messin' With Lewbert teach you anything?" Carly screeched. "What if something happens and messing with Briggs takes a turn for the worse, too?"

"Dude, chill, Carls. Nothing bad is going to happen," Sam assured her. "To me anyway."

"What do you have in mind?" Freddie asked curiously. Carly sighed and gave in as well.

"Nothing that ends with hospitals!" she warned.

"Actually," Sam began, a grin making its way onto her face. "I was thinking more of a something involving rotten tomatoes and tube socks worn by Geoff."

"Who's Geoff?" Carly wondered out loud.

"The hobo living across the street," Sam answered matter-of-factly.

"Oh yeah," Carly said, remembering all the times that Sam had stopped to converse with the weird guy.

"Doesn't he not wear socks?" Freddie inquired, recalling one conversation that Sam had held with the disgusting man on that very subject.

"Yep," Sam declared proudly, mischievous smile spreading across her face.

"Those are going to smell disgusting!" Carly proclaimed. At Freddie and Sam's expectant looks, she shrugged and admitted, "I guess that is sort of the point."

"So…" Freddie began. "Off to the supermarket?"

"For what?" Sam asked, now becoming confused.

"Tomatoes," he replied, looking at her like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Nah, we don't need to," she declared off-handily. "I'm pretty sure there is a whole bag full of them at my house from that time when my mom was trying to make me eat more vegetables."

"But wasn't that over a month ago?" Freddie asked, unwillingly recalling the time that Sam had been sent to the dentist and unknowingly spilled about their kiss. Stupid squash.

"Duh," Sam affirmed as if he ought to have known this and it was no big deal. Carly and Freddie shivered simultaneously.

"Poor Ms Briggs," Carly remarked.

"She so deserves it!" Sam exclaimed.

"She kind of does," Freddie agreed.

"I know…" Carly whined, still not liking the fact that it would be mean to pelt a teacher with rotten tomatoes. But it also would be funny…

"But where are you going to get tube socks?" Freddie asked, finding the holes in Sam's plan as per usual. After a moment's thought, she turned around.

"_Spencer!_"

* * *

"Do you have the stuff?" Freddie inquired conspiratorially, feeling like he was playing out a super secret spy mission.

"I have them," Carly confirmed, opening her backpack to reveal a mass of plastic.

"That's plastic!" he exclaimed. Then, realizing he had gotten a bit too loud, he whispered harshly, "You were supposed to get the socks from Geoff!"

"Those are the socks from Geoff!" Carly insisted. "I had to wrap them in layers of plastic to hide the smell."

Freddie pulled a disgusted face and Carly nodded grimly. "Okay, Sam's already out in the parking lot with the rotten tomatoes."

"Are they really that rotten?" Carly questioned, not having seen (or smelt) them yet.

"Oh yeah," Freddie replied, eyebrows rising and eyes widening at the thought.

"We don't actually have to… throw them, right?" Carly asked, having worried about this ever since her best friend had developed the plan.

"You can just load," Freddie reassured her. "Did you bring the rubber gloves?"

"Yep," she affirmed. She had packed those last night, just to make absolutely sure that she didn't forget them. Turning around the corner, they spotted Sam leaning against some random car, bag of grotesque-looking and repulsive-smelling red blobs on the white hood.

"'Bout time," she greeted. "Start loading. Briggs'll be here soon."

"I can't believe I'm doing this!" Carly squealed, handling the wrapped package of socks with the tips of her fingers and looking at it as if it was the murder weapon. The words flashed through her head : _Carly Shay, in the parking lot, with the stinky socks. _

"Stop being such a baby," Sam commanded, yanking the plastic from her hands and quickly unwrapping the package as it was her first present on Christmas morning.

"I can't do it!" Carly announced, jumping backwards. "I just… I'm sorry, Sam."

Sighing deeply, Sam shrugged, almost like she had expected something like this to happen. "Fine. You going to bail on me, too, Benson?"

"No way!" Freddie confirmed just as Carly protested that she wasn't bailing on her friend. Freddie and Sam both rolled their heads over to shoot her a look.

"Fine! I'm bailing on you," Carly admitted. "But do you have to say it? It makes me feel so bad inside."

"It's fine," Freddie assured the girl that stood over by the building to avoid the brunt of the smell. "Sam and I can both load and pellet."

"Sounds like a plan, Freddio," Sam agreed, grinning at the boy and then at the revolting pieces of their weapons. With Freddie wearing a grimace and Sam keeping her mischievous grin, they got to work on packing the tube socks with their ammo.

"Oh! She's here, she's here! Briggs is coming!" Carly shout-whispered with her hand cupping her mouth as Briggs' car drove into the parking lot, conveniently close but across the isle from where they were standing. Freddie and Sam crouched and sneaked closer. When the door opened, Sam started swinging a tube sock in each hand.

"Don't do your customary war cry," Freddie whispered harshly just as the blonde opened her mouth to do so. Turning only her head, she gave him a questioning scowl, but didn't have the time to say anything before Briggs got out of the car.

As first the flying tube sock landed on Briggs' right shoulder, Sam let out her war cry anyway. After flinging her other sock, that landed straight on the woman's chest at the same time that Freddie's slammed into her head, Sam stole Freddie's other prepared sock. Annoyed at Sam for stealing both of his socks, he reached for the small stock they had managed to make before the teacher's arrival and was swinging it over his head when the blonde demon stole it. Twice more, Freddie attempted to toss a rotten tomato at Briggs on his own, but twice more, Sam couldn't bother to reach over to the stock and get her own.

"We have to run!" Carly insisted, tugging on Freddie's sleeve. "Briggs is coming over!"

"C'mon, Sam!" he beckoned, not wanting to get caught.

"No way!" she shot back, grabbing another loaded sock. "This is awesome!"

As tempted as Freddie was to stay beside his friend and dish out some well-deserved revenge to Ms Briggs (after all, he had only gotten to hit her once), the scary lady was coming closer and he really didn't want to get caught. His mother would ground him for life. Besides, Carly was yanking his arm by this time.

"YOU!" Ms Briggs shouted, contempt lacing her voice. "I'll get you this time, Puckett!"

"Only if you catch me, fatso!" the blonde replied, running around to catch up with Carly and Freddie, who had only gotten around the corner.

"Oh, I feel sooo much better now!" she exclaimed, gigantic grin on her face.

"We're so busted. We're going to get caught. We're going to get detention for a year. Spencer's going to ground me!" Carly babbled, clearly panicking.

"Keep running!" Freddie instructed.

"Don't hyperventilate now, Carls. You're gonna pass out," Sam warned.

Murphy's Law worked its magic, and two seconds later, Carly Shay was flat on her back.

* * *

"My mom's going to kill me!" Freddie whined.

"Oh, grow a back bone, Fredelina," Sam retorted, looking much more comfortable in the chair in Principal Franklin's office. Although it wasn't the first time the boy had been in the room, he sure had never felt this guilty before.

"This wouldn't have been a problem if you had just ran," Sam pointed out.

"I wasn't about to just leave Carly unconscious on the floor!" Freddie protested.

"She would have been fine!" Sam insisted.

"You're insane!" Freddie declared.

"You're a spineless geek!" she shot back.

"Sam, Freddie," Principal Franklin greeted as he walked into the room and unknowingly between the heated glare contest the two students were holding. As he sat down in his own chair, he sighed deeply. "You really have gotten yourself in deep this time."

"Why?" Sam inquired, scoffing. "Briggs totally deserved it."

"Nevertheless, you can never attack a teacher, Sam," Principal Franklin told her pointedly, as if he doubted she would care or even listen.

"We didn't _attack _her," Freddie objected. "They were just tomatoes in tube socks."

"Which you threw at her repeatedly," the tired man finished.

"Fine," Sam admitted. "We _threw _tomatoes at her. And she deserved it."

"But I'm going to have to take disciplinary measures," the principal explained.

"Just slap another week's worth of detention onto my sentence and we'll get out of your hair," Sam remarked off-handily. Freddie rolled his eyes, but hoped that's all that would happen. Unfortunately, right at that moment, Ms Briggs stormed through the door, followed by Principal Franklin's protesting assistant.

"Francine, you cannot come here," the assistant insisted.

"I need to make sure justice is served!" Ms Briggs proclaimed furiously. With dripping, red stains (that stank to high heaven, all the occupants of the room decided) covering her from head to toe, she was quite a sight. "These… _devil children _attacked me!"

"I am taking care of the situation," Principal Franklin assured her, signaling to his assistant that he would take care of everything and she could return to her desk.

"And what is their punishment, exactly?" the teacher demanded.

"Suspension. Two days," Principal Franklin announced, ignoring the fast as lightning drop of Freddie's jaw to the floor and the lazy roll of Sam's eyes.

"They attacked a staff member with a _dangerous weapon!_" Briggs shouted.

"How is a tube sock full of rotten tomatoes a _dangerous weapon_?" Freddie and Sam both questioned incredulity at the same time. They gave each other a quick glare for talking at the same time before turning their piercing glares back to Briggs.

"That was clearly a slung shot," Briggs explained haughtily.

"A… slung shot?" Principal Franklin asked, not understanding exactly what dangerous weapon that was supposed to be.

"What the heck is that?" Sam inquired harshly.

Both of the students' eyebrows raised to their hairlines when Ms Briggs pulled a stabled stack of paper from out of nowhere and started reading from it.

"Slung shot: a weight fastened to a short strap," Briggs explained. "And according to Washington State Education policy, 'Any dangerous weapon as defined in RCW 9.41.250, i.e. _slung shot_' is subject to the minimum punishment of short-term suspension."

"Which I am about to give them," Principal Franklin repeated, trying to ignore the long, unneeded lesson in student misconduct.

"But it is also subject to a maximum punishment," Briggs continued, an evil glint in her eyes.

"On what grounds should this extreme punishment be delivered?" the principal inquired, not surprised that the lady had brought it up, but really hoping he could talk her out of it again.

"With the use of dangerous weapons onto of the attack of a teacher, I think it is _clear _that the maximum punishment should be dealt," Briggs responded coolly, giving Sam a confident, arrogant, evil glare.

"While you're input is noted," Principal Franklin replied, "I do have the final say, and I think that a two-day suspension should suffice."

"Two days?" Briggs shrieked in disgust. "They should at least be banned for the rest of the week!"

"We'll compromise," Principal Franklin relented. "Three days."

"_What?!" _Freddie protested. "I can't miss school for three days! We have a quiz in Spanish on Wednesday!"

"Well, you should have thought about that before bringing weapons to school and using them against a teacher," Briggs remarked nastily.

"I'm sorry, Freddie, but there is nothing I can do about the situation. Ms Briggs is correct," Principal Franklin admitted. "You both are being suspended for the rest of today, tomorrow, and Wednesday, and I will be sending notes home to both of your mothers."

Freddie stared at the principal incredulously.

"Can we at least visit Carls at the nurse's station before we leave?" Sam asked lazily.

"That will be fine," Principal Franklin replied.

"Principal Franklin," Ms Briggs began saccharinely. "Benson here isn't quite as much of the trouble-maker as Puckett, so I think that the short-term suspension is a fitting punishment. However… Samantha has a history of _violence _towards staff members and her fellow students and a general _disregard _for the rules that I humbly think earn her a recommendation to the superintendent for a harsher punishment."

"What? Having to deal with you for another 30 seconds?" Sam questioned dryly.

Giving Sam an elitist look, Ms Briggs explained exactly what she meant.

"_Expulsion._"

This time, the jaws of both Freddie and Sam hit the floor in shock.


End file.
